


Flickering Candle

by Kamefootninja



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Canon - Comics, Gen, Mirage - Freeform, TMNT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamefootninja/pseuds/Kamefootninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michelangelo was like a candle, always bright and full of energy. So when his light starts to flicker his whole family are determined to fix it, before the fire dies out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For som reason when I was writing this it turned out more like the Mirage comics style, so it more gritty than the cartoons. They use full names most the time and some characters might soon OOC From the cartoons.

They were all used to fighting; it was second nature to them. For as long as they could remember they had been warriors, so when they finally emerged from the sewers they never questioned why they had to fight. It was all they'd ever known. To a certain extent they usually enjoyed fighting.  
  
Tonight was one of those nights that they didn't. Their feet hardly even hit the floor as they furiously battled across the rooftops of New York City, the two sets of ninja barely making a sound as their fight raged above the streets. Tomorrow people may wonder about the dents and damages to their roof, or about any red stains that lingered after the blood was washed away by the rain, but for the most part the city was oblivious to the rival ninja that had chosen their city as their battleground.  
  
It was an uneven fight - four teenagers against dozens of Foot warriors - but that was how it always was. Even though the fight was uneven, it wasn't necessarily unfair, and the outcome was usually the same.  
  
The four Hamato brothers wasted no time in fleeing across the rooftops, away from the fallen Foot clan, fuelled with adrenaline masking the pain from the strenuous fight. Leonardo silently gestured for them to drop down into an alley a few blocks away, leading his brothers away from prying eyes in case any more of their enemies were watching them.  
  
Raphael was buzzing with energy as he silently touched down next to his brother, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. He loved the thrill he got from a good fight.  
  
Donatello followed a moment later, his eyes automatically running over his older brothers, wordlessly assessing their injuries from the fight.  
  
Michelangelo was the last to join them, which was strange since he was usually the fastest of the four. The others instantly noticed his strange behaviour.  
  
"Your arm's pretty bad, Mike." Don commented, taking in the deep cut on his brothers arm.  
  
"It's fine." He shrugged, looking down at the injury as if he'd only just noticed it.  
  
Donatello quickly removed his bandanna to tightly tie it around the cut, stemming the blood flow. "You won't be saying that when the adrenaline fades away."  
  
"Thanks." Mike muttered, flinching slightly as he flexed the muscles in his arm, testing the injury to make sure it wasn't too damaged.  
  
Raphael’s eyes were narrowed as he watched his best friend; something was definately wrong. Usually Mike was as pumped as he was after a fight, but today he seemed tired and drained. And they usually couldn't shut him up, yet he suddenly didn't seem to want to talk to them.  
  
"Hey Mike - how about a race to the corner of East and Lairdman street?" Raph offered, knowing that nothing fuelled his energetic brother more than a challenge.  
  
"You guys go ahead; I'll meet you back home." Mike gave them a quick forced smile to try and convince them that he was okay before turning and walking away.  
  
Raph started to object, only to be stopped by Leonardo grabbing his shoulder, giving him a look that told him not to argue.  
  
"I'll go with you." Donatello stated, tucking his Bo staff into his belt as he followed behind his brother. "I'm not sure if that cut needs stitching."  
  
Michelangelo didn't even stop to acknowledge him; if he hadn't shrugged his shoulders then Don wouldn't have known if he'd heard him at all.  
  
Leo's eyes landed on the broken sword tucked into the back of Michelangelo's belt. It wasn't uncommon for them to collect 'souvenirs' from their battles, but usually they only collected undamaged weapons, unless they were willing to put in the time and effort to make a particular piece usable again.  
  
Apparently Raphael had noticed as well, because he thoughtfully thumbed the stolen shuriken hidden in the pouch of his belt.  
  
"I'll race you if you want." Leonardo offered, squeezing his brother’s shoulder slightly to get his attention. "Besides," he added teasingly. "You’re a nightmare to handle if you don't burn off some energy. "  
  
"Thanks bro," Raphael brought one of his hands to his shoulder to rest on top of his brothers, only to roughly push it away. "But I'm pretty sure Mike just killed my buzz."  
  
With that said Raphael followed his younger brothers back home, leaving their leader to stare after them and wonder what exactly had gotten into Michelangelo.


	2. Chapter 2

Michelangelo felt more then seen his brother enter the dojo, but he didn’t stop his onslaught on his punching bag.  
  
“You‘re gonna end up opening that cut on your shoulder at this rate.” Raph’s gruff voice filled the room, but his brother still didn’t stop.   
  
With a frustrated sigh Raph walked over to his agitated brother, holding the punch bag still for him, making sure that he couldn’t be ignored. “How many stitched did Don put in there?”  
  
“Four.” Michelangelo grunted, punching the bag with enough force to knock his brother back.  
  
For a second Michelangelo’s eyes flashed with emotion as he watched Raph stumble backwards before regaining his balance, but it was gone before Raph could even see it.  
  
The younger turtle grabbed his water bottle and drank half the bottle in one go. “Why‘d you come in here Raphael?”  
  
“It‘s a free gym Mike.”  
  
With a sharp nod Michelangelo turned and walked out, leaving his brother with narrowed eyes to watch him leave.  
  
Raphael wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, if Michelangelo was refusing to talk to everyone then he was determined to change that.  
  
Only five minuets had passed before Michelangelo found himself with a six pack of beer trust into his chest.   
  
“You. Me. Roof. Now” Raph’s voice left no room for arguments, but Michelangelo looked like he was going to try. The beer was thrust back to Raphael, but he didn’t manage to move away before his brother grabbed his arm.  
  
Almost automatically, Mike turned and swung a fist at Raphael. His brother brought an arm up to block it but there wasn’t any need; Michelangelo’s fist stopped just short of his brothers arm before quickly pulling it away.  
  
Once against the six pack was pushed into his chest, but he didn’t look like he was going to argue this time.  
  
The two brothers made their way up to the rooftops in complete silence.  
  


* * *

  
“I get it if you don‘t want to talk about it.” Raphael’s voice was strangely calm as he looked out over the postcard-like view of night time New York. “But we aint seen you like this since we first moved out to the farm.”  
  
Mike’s face hardened slightly at the grim memory of almost losing Leonardo on that dark Christmas, taking another swig of  beer from his can.  
  
Michelangelo didn’t usually drink beer, it was an acquired taste that only Raphael seemed to really enjoy, but tonight he found himself not caring as the bitter liquid burnt his throat.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“I‘m…I don’t know.” Mike admitted, his eyes on his can as he rolled it between his hands. “I just… need to think about something, I guess.”  
  
Raphael nodded his understanding. “I get that. Just don’t forget we’re all here if you need to talk about it.”  
  
“Thanks.” Mike drained the rest of his can in one go, choking slightly as it went down the wrong way. “Where‘d you get the beer from anyway?”  
  
“Casey left it last time he came ‘round.” Raphael shrugged, opening another can for himself. “Figured if you leave beer around a group of teenagers you don‘t expect to see it again anyway.” He joked, holding the can at arms length as the beer fizzed over the rim of the can.  
  
“Don’s gonna wanna stitch you arm again.” Raphael pointed out. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was wide, two of the stitches were already noticeably broken from his brothers workout.  
  
“I‘m not that bothered if it scars.” Mike shrugged, grabbing another can but not opening it yet as he stared up at the few visible stars.  
  
“Should still get it stitched up.” Raphael grunted. It was strange for the younger turtle not to care about his appearance. Raphael had the most scars out of his brothers, but Michelangelo was careful not to get his skin marked; he always joked that was too pretty to have scars.  
  
Raphael’s lips quirked into a smile at the thought of his youngest brother’s antics. It was hard to imagine that the same energetic teenager that was so full of life, was the turtle that now sat beside him.  
  
Michelangelo could get on his nerves from time-to-time, but the two of them were the best of friends. Even after a fit of anger had almost caused him to fatally strike his brother with a lead pipe, Michelangelo had forgiven him.  
  
Whenever he’d needed him, Mike had been there to help him. But now that Michelangelo was the one who needed help, Raphael had no Idea what to do.  
  
He felt completely helpless as he drained his second can.  
  


* * *

  
“I told you to be careful. I knew you’d manage to tear the stitches.” Donatello sounded annoyed as he gathered the medical needle and string from his first aid kit. “Have you been drinking?” His face scrunched up as the faint smell of alcohol hit his nostrils  
  
Michelangelo didn’t say anything as he knelt down next to his brother, his injured arm across the others lap to grip at the seat of his chair; positioning himself so that Don could easily reach the top of his arm that needed re-stitching.  
  
“It’s too soon for you to have another painkiller, so you’re going to have to make do without. Not that I could give you any with alcohol in your system anyway.” His annoyance ebbed down slightly as he spoke, giving way to sympathy as he steeled himself for the painful procedure. “The alcohol should help.”  
  
Mike nodded once, signalling that he was ready as he gripped the seat in anticipation, his other hand brought the blunt knife they used to bite down on in between his teeth.  
  
For once he didn’t scream out as he bite into the knife. His tears ran silent as the needle continuously pierced his skin.  
  
For Michelangelo the physical pain was a welcome distraction from the emotions that threatened to tear him apart from inside his own head.


	3. Chapter 3

Leonardo considered his two younger brothers carefully, the few injuries they had gained from the fight were shallow or cosmetic, Michelangelo was the only one who had needed stitches.  
  
“Did he tell you anything?”  
  
Raphael grunted as he folded his arms over his chest tightly. “Nothing. Says he needs to think over something but wouldn't tell me what.” It was frustrating that Mike was keeping things from him, the two had always been close and shared almost everything. Almost. But there was something that a turtle had to keep to himself. And that pain was the worst of all.  
  
“He was sloppy during the fight. Usually its Raphael I'm patching up.” Donatello pointed out, not really sure why he had to be here for this. Him and Michaelangelo weren't close at all, not since they were kids, sharing the same abandoned subway train bedroom at night.  
  
“Something happened during that fight. Something we missed.” Leonardo hated when his brothers bottled up their problems. As leader he needed to know everything that could affect them in battle, and as the eldest brother he needed to look after them at home too.  
  
“Whatever happened we have to let him work through it alone. Its not our place to get in his business about it.” Raphael knew that his best friend would only close himself off more if they pried, they had to let him come to them. “This little meeting is over.”  
  
No one was really surprised when Raphael left them in the sitting room to carry on without him. But Raphael was surprised when he passed Michelangelo's room and realised his little brother was still awake.  
  
Stitches were always painful since they couldn't get hold of any reliable pain control, and especially after their rooftop drinking session Michelangelo should be all but passed out by now.  
  
Raphael didn't interrupt, but peeked through the crack in the door, wanting to see what his brother was up to so late.  
  
The youngest turtle, was sat leaning his shell against the wall, obviously tired but forcing himself to stay awake. Raphael couldn't be sure, but he seemed to be working on repairing the sword he'd taken from the fight, sanding down the broken and jagged edges ready to be made usable again. His eyes seemed dead in the flickering candle light.  
  
Whatever had happened in the fight, Raphael was sure had been caused by the foot solider who wielded that weapon. And as he headed off to his own room, he vowed that he would find out what had caused his best friend and brother so much pain.  
  


* * *

 

  
Michelangelo could feel one of his brothers at his door, and since they didn't barge in or tell him to sleep he could guess that it was Raphael.  
  
Usually he'd just tell him to buzz off or lock the door, but tonight he was just too tired, physically and mentally.   
  
He knew it was stupid, he was being weak, and that made him even more angry at himself. He had no right to mope around like this, what happened must happen all to the time to his brothers, so why the hell was it affecting him so strongly.  
  
With a sigh he placed the sword to the side. It was almost too badly damaged to repair, at best it would have to be made into a dagger instead of a sword, more work than he ever put into a weapon that wasn't his nunchucks.  
  
With a sigh he started to blow out the candles in his room. He needed to at least try to sleep. Even though he was sure it wouldn't come easy tonight.  



End file.
